May Angels Lead You In
by Xx.Eru.dess.xX
Summary: “Matt?” Silence. “Mello, is that really you?” I took a deep breath. “Yeah, it's me.” We hadn't seen each other. Not since he died, at least. Idly, I wondered how Matt was. What he was doing, how he was getting along. If he was as screwed up as I was.


Title: May Angels Lead You In

Rating: M. (You know, it may be just me, but I can never DECIDE on a fucking rating. D: makes me horribly, horribly, angry. So, it probably isn't deserving of an M, but I don't want to get my account suspended, now do I?)

Summary: "Matt?" Silence. "Mello, is that really you?" I took a deep breath. "Yeah, it's me." We hadn't seen each other in a while. Not since he died, at least. Idly, I wondered how Matt was. What he was doing, how he was getting along. If he was as screwed up as I had become.

Pairings: HAHA NONE, BITCHES. Not even implied, seriously. Sorry about that... D:

Warnings: Hold on while I try and think of some... hmm... oh, okay.

Character death. D:

Heavy language, because I'm a horribly potty mouth. Well, you know.

Uhh... implied gore? Well, it's not implied. It's told in a story. But you know pansies... I should put it here, anyway.

Spoilers for L's real name.

AU.

Aha, and BB might make a special guest appearance. If none of you know who Beyond Birthday is, fuck you. NO, JUST JOKING. D: I suggest you read the novel "Death Note: Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases". BB was an orphan that went to Wammy's House and slipped slightly off of the deep end. -shifty eyes- His name for part of the story is "Rue Lawliet", just in case you get confused.

Anduhh... that should be it. Wow, no yaoi or lemons. Holy shit. D:

Author's Note: HAY GUYZ. Soyes. This is _another _new story. But I promise I'll finish this one, as well. I just can't help myself sometimes. I get an idea and I must go with it. It's not like I'm giving up anything that you've all come to know and... possibly love, so it's all in good fun. This story was inspired by one of my favorite songs, "May Angels Lead You In", by Jimmy Eat World. I was just sitting there, listening to it, and thought how well it fit with Mello, Matt, and L. Then I spawned this devilish little creation. 8D But, official notice tiem: This story WILL BE REPLACING "Beautiful Disaster", which was my promised MelloxNear story. So, sorry about that, MelloxNear shippers. Just couldn't bring myself to do it. Nevertheless, this is a few firsts for me. This is my first time writing in Mello's POV, and this is my first time writing about Mello and Matt, too. This is also my first time writing Beyond Birthday and posting it, so I try my best.

And sadly, this story is kind of hard for me to write. You see, one of the themes in this story is cancer. And I recently learned that my Uncle (who I've known all my life, and love him deeply) has Leukemia, and we don't know if he'll make it or not. Fortunately, I have great faith that he'll live, because he's a strong mofo. :D All right, I'll stop whining and let you get onto the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, or Beyond Birthday, or the Death Note novel. Or the song which this story is named after. D:

_May Angels Lead You In_

Chapter One

"_It's just going to be the same, Matt. He'll take us out for a little while, then leave. And we'll never see him again." _The words that I said a little over ten years ago kept ringing in my head as I waited to get one final look at his peaceful face. My lifetime buddy, Matt, stood in front of me. He was unusually quiet today, but it was an unusually quiet day. A somber day, one that didn't even deserve to be recognized as a day. More like twenty-four hours in Hell. I couldn't help myself, "What did I tell you, Matt? Wasn't I right?" He turned toward me, puzzled. After a few seconds, he turned back.

"Whatever, man. I don't know what the Hell you're talking about." I grabbed his arm, and he whirled around. Several people stopped and stared at us for disturbing the unusually quiet day. "What?" He said angrily, clearly not in the mood to speak to anyone. Not even me.

"I told you I was right." I said as another person went to find their seat, and we moved up more in the line. "I said he'd spend a little time with us, then leave. And now we're never going to see him again." Matt just rolled his eyes and shrugged his arm away from my grasp. "Isn't that what I said would happen?"

He straightened out his tie and placed his hands in his pockets, sighing. "You and I both know that's not what you meant, Mello." I crossed my arms at the mention of the name I hadn't been called by since I was six. "He stayed with us for ten years, what else did you want from the guy? He was sick, Mello. He knew he was going to die, okay?" Finally it was Matt's turn. From my place behind him, I could see our guardian's face. Those gentle, yet stern features that seemed to be set in stone in a placid expression. I couldn't help but chuckle as I realized he was being buried in the wig we gave him. I remembered the day Matt and I had both bought it, and cut it as best as we could to make it look like his real hair. "Look, Mello. It's the wig," Matt said, thinking the same thing that I was.

"Yeah, I see it." I mumbled quietly, a sad smile coming across my lips. I watched Matt lean over the casket and whisper something, and a small tear rolled down his cheek. I bit my lip and swallowed back a lump in my throat as I stepped up quietly. For a few seconds, I kept my eye on him as he went back to his seat. Silently, I saw him flash me a thumbs up. I smiled wider.

I stood for a few seconds, looking at his face. I remembered how he hardly ever slept, and when he did, it was only as a last resort. When he was so tired he couldn't even function. Then, maybe he would sleep two hours. At the most. So it was strange to see his eyes closed. Not that it wouldn't have been creepy to have him buried with his eyes open, we were just so used to seeing them that way. As much as I wanted to, I was slightly afraid to reach out and touch his face. I had never seen a real dead body before, and I knew it was him, but it was still frightening. L was never one to look vital, I'll give you that. He looked perpetually tired, and run-down, but I remembered how terrible he looked in the weeks, maybe even months before his death. When Matt and I would go to see him in the hospital, he would try and put on his best for us. To not let us see the pain he was in, because he didn't want us to feel his pain as well. Of course, that only made it worse. I remembered how his face lit up the day we brought him the wig, and we all laughed when he put it on. Matt and I had done a better job than we had thought; it almost made us forget his hair was gone. He thanked us and said that he would never take it off, because it reminded him of us.

L was twenty-nine when he died, leaving behind his two adopted children. Myself—Mello, though it's been a while since I've been called that—and Matt. He held strong until the very end; didn't give in without fighting his cancer tooth and nail. That was L. He wouldn't accept defeat, never took no for an answer. Matt and I made a pact to always live by the standards he had laid in front of us. It was unclear whether he wanted us to live by them or not, to turn out like he did. I never saw any flaws with him; L was my idol, period. I looked up to him more than anyone else I had ever known. He was a strong man, and I wanted to be strong as well. He was brilliant, and I wanted to grow up and be just as smart as him. He loved us, and I wanted to grow and love children of my own. Just like him. "I don't even know what to say," I whispered to him. "You know I'm not good with words." I closed my eyes as well, wondering that maybe if I opened them again, I could go back to day one. Five years old, the first day he came to see us. But when I opened them, I was still there. "I'm gonna miss you, buddy." I reached out and brushed my fingertips across his cheek, my heart fluttering inside my ribcage. His skin was ice-cold. Feeling a warm tear slide down my cheek, I watched it drop to the ground. "I know you didn't believe, but I sure hope you get to Heaven. God knows you deserve it." There was a clearing of throats behind me, and I stepped aside, a little perturbed. Did these people not know I was his child, for Christ's sake? I supposed they all were more important.

Reluctantly, I went to sit back down next to Matt. Looking down at the floor, I tried to fight off the thought that we would never see him again. L had been a part of our lives since we were small children, how could we bear the thought of losing him now? Besides, we were only kids ourselves. "Hey, man. We'll get by." Matt said softly, patting my shoulder. I looked up and shook my blond hair out from in front of my eyes. "We dealt with our parents, right? We can do this. It's not like he's suffering anymore, huh?" I nodded.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Silence. "Matt?" I asked nervously.

He looked my direction and lifted up his sunglasses. "Yeah?" He whispered, not wanting to cause more noise than we had previously. "What, Mello?"

"Stop calling me that." I snapped unintentionally, and he drew back, hands raised in surrender. "I'm sorry," I apologized quickly, and he settled back into his seat comfortably. "Look, I just wanted to ask you a question." Matt gestured for me to go on, taking his sunglasses away from his face. He stared at me with his sharp green eyes, and I hesitated for a moment. "Do you think..." I started, "Do you think L's in heaven?"

To my surprise, Matt smiled. "Of course he is, why wouldn't he be? L was the nicest guy I knew." We both fell silent after that, leaning back in our seats and watching the service begin. I was the one that said we should have a traditional funeral, with a Priest and everything. Matt thought it was somewhat ridiculous, but he didn't complain. I wanted to make sure everything was right for the funeral, even through my daze of losing him. Everything had to be perfect for him, because he had been perfect in my eyes. Matt once mentioned to me that I still thought of him the same way we did when we were younger. And, it was true. Young children often idolize their parents, think that they are indestructible, and can do anything in the world. While I knew L wasn't indestructible (I still hold steadfast to the idea that he _could _do anything), I did idolize him. Most of my earliest memories are with him, and how he brightened up my dull existence. It's not that I don't remember my parents, I do... somewhat. But I remember him more. I was so young when my parents died, that it doesn't really make a difference. I'm sure they were great people, but maybe not as great as him. L was an angel in disguise to Matt and I. We needed a home, and someone to love and care for us. That's just what he did, even though he was undeniably busy. Through it all though, neither Matt nor I ever felt neglected. He always had time to spend with us, or always made it. It was obvious we were his first priority over his career.

Maybe it was just me, but I suddenly remembered seeing the pain in his eyes, when he told us that he was no longer in remission. That his cancer had come back.

XxXxXxX

Matt and I both stepped out of the chapel, into the unusually sunny day in front of us. After we had seen his casket get lowered into the ground, we went back inside to complete the service. We both got up to speak a little bit about L, and how we felt about him. I went first, but of course I had not prepared anything. I mainly bullshitted for ten minutes, and everyone seemed to eat it up. The men sitting stoically next to their wives, who were dabbing napkins at the watering eyes delicately. I couldn't help but wonder which of these people actually missed him, and which ones had come for show. It was only right that I supposed some of these people were those he had helped in his short career as a Private Detective. I removed my jacket from around my shoulders and loosened my tie, feeling uncomfortable. "So what now?" My voice carried simply, muffled by the mourners surrounding us. Matt shrugged, placing his sunglasses back over his eyes.

"I don't know. The Social Service gal's supposed to meet us here in half an hour." He turned to me with a devious smile. "Wanna ditch her?" I smiled as well, though I have a feeling it didn't reach my eyes. Any chance to get away from Social Services was a good idea, in my book. Since L had died, and he was our only legal guardian, we had no one else. And going further, we were only sixteen and seventeen years old. I was the former, just in case you were wondering. Which meant, of course, that until we were least eighteen, we would have to go back into the Care System. "Come on, Mello." He waved me on, starting to walk towards our car. I followed behind quietly, wondering where we would go.

"Let's go back to the house, Matt." I said as we reached the car. I stared at my distorted reflection in the red paint of the vehicle. Turning my eyes away, I looked at Matt. I couldn't stand to look at myself. "Come on, just for old time's sake." He shrugged and got in the drivers side. I hated driving cars; the only thing I would drive was motorcycles, something that L hated. He was always warning me not to crash, and to never forget my helmet and things like that. I never forgot my helmet, just because he asked.

"All right, sounds good enough. We haven't been there in a while, anyway." He started up the engine, and reached for the radio, but withdrew his hand. "You don't want that on, do you?" I shook my head and buckled my seatbelt. Matt didn't bother. "So, you know we have a meeting with the lawyer and everything on Thursday, right? To read his will."

I crossed my legs and looked up at the roof of the car, tilting my head back. "Yeah, I know. I just..." Sighing loudly, I closed my eyes. "It's hard to believe he's gone." In a few seconds, we were moving down the street at the typically fast pace Matt always drove. I opened my eyes and looked out the window at all the things rushing by. Buildings, people, trees and plants. It seemed like the past few days, ever since we got wind of his death. Everything going by in such a blur that we could barely keep up. Hearing rustling, I looked to my right to see Matt, one hand on the wheel, the other on a pack of cigarettes. "Oh, Hell no!" I started, not about to let him smoke. They caused cancer.

"Jesus, man. Hold the fuck up." Matt mumbled, rolling down his window. He gave a passing glance to the pack of those disgusting things, before tossing them carelessly out onto the street. There was a slightly audible '_thud_' as they hit the asphalt. "I quit. Happy?" Matt left his window down, his dark red hair whipping around his stern face.

"Yeah, I'm happy." I smiled. "Thanks, man." He muttered something along the lines of "whatever, bitch" underneath his breath and I shook my head. "L never liked those things, anyway." I saw Matt's hands tighten on the wheel slightly, then relax.

Pulling up at a red light, he eased the car to a stop behind an old beat-down Hyundai. "It's ironic, huh? He hated cigarettes, and then he goes and dies of cancer." I felt my own hands clench into fists, and a sharp pang of sadness flooded through me. "I mean, how can you believe in God when shit like this happens every day, Mello? Especially to us. Did we deserve to have him taken away from us, huh?" He turned toward me, throwing his sunglasses into the glove compartment. "Is this all part of God's fucking plan?" Refusing to acknowledge him, I stared out the window angrily at the other cars. "Why aren't you answering me, Mello? Do you think his death had some higher meaning? 'Cause I sure don't!"

"Don't try and pin this all on me, Matt!" I shouted suddenly, turning to face him. He fell silent, but there was anger behind his green eyes. "You act like his death is my fault! Like I knew he had cancer? Like I just didn't want to tell you?" I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my tempter under control. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Matt! I don't _know_ why he died! I don't fucking know! There, are you happy!" I sat back in my seat, feeling worse than when I had entered the chapel.

We were moving again, and Matt seemed to be going _under_ the speed limit for once. I didn't dare look at him; I didn't even want to. All was silent, except for his tapping fingers against the steering wheel. "Look, Mihael." He said suddenly, and I couldn't help but turn my head at the name. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm just really riled up about his death. Just as much as you are, all right?" He kept his eyes on the road, his jaw set firmly in place. "I didn't mean to get all defensive or whatever." That was Matt, always had a way with words. I nodded my head, but he didn't see me. "Jesus, now you won't even talk to me." He muttered hotly, stepping on the gas a little.

"No, sorry. I just... I thought you saw me nod." He turned back with a relieved look on his face. "I understand, Matt. But like you said, we'll just have to get by. We can do—"

"You think I was serious, man? That was just a bunch of bull shit! You looked sad, and you know I don't want to see you sad, man. So I made it up." My heart sunk. Of course Matt didn't feel that way, what was I, stupid? We weren't the two most optimistic people on the planet, and now that I think about it, neither of us thought we would make it without him. I stayed quiet, a silent agreement that Matt had done nothing more than attempt to cheer me up.

After our strange conversation, both of us stayed silent most of the way there. A few words were exchanged, but they were simple. It had been such a long day, all I really wanted to do was go to the house, look around for a little bit... maybe take a few memories with us before the will divided everything up. Then we would go back to a cheap hotel and crash, because I knew we both couldn't stand to sleep in the same house that he lived in. Time seemed to go quicker than usual, and in what seemed like a few minutes, we were pulling into the driveway of the house we hadn't seen in months.

It was a modest, three story brown-stone. Crammed up against a row of others almost exactly like it, of course. I hated the close proximity of our neighbors, but Matt never seemed to mind. Inside was always immaculate, due to the fact that L had a 'more than slight' phobia of germs and bacteria. We were brought up to be as clean as he was, though both Matt and I had been slipping in and out of it since he went into the hospital. When we had first moved into the brown-stone, L had told us we had free reign of the house. Except for two things: His bedroom, and the third floor. We could go up to the third floor if we asked permission first, and if he said yes, but we could never go into his bedroom. Matt and I had speculated sneaking in there once or twice while he was away, just to see what he was hiding, but we never did. L had too much of our respect for us to violate his privacy.

Matt got out of the car first, but I took a moment to sit in it and reflect on the house that held so many memories. Finally, I opened my door and stepped out. Matt was waiting by the front door, as I walked briskly toward him. "Do you have your key, Matt?" I asked, fishing in my pocket just in case he forgot his. He shook his head 'no' idly, and I pulled it out. Jamming the key into the lock, I turned it and heard the familiar 'click'. "Can't believe it's been a couple months since we've been here, huh?"

"Yeah," Matt murmured softly as I opened the door. Once inside, I was slightly overcome with the smell of dust. We hadn't been there, and L wasn't there to clean it. Dust had settled on a few objects, and some long strands clung to the walls. It made me a bit displeased to see the house in this condition, even if it was nobody's fault. "Jesus, look at this place. Really went to Hell after he went to the hospital, huh?" Matt said, running his eyes over the coffee table in the front room. I stepped up behind him and looked around.

"I guess so, yeah." I slid my finger along the edge of the table, and rubbed the thin layer of dust in between my fingers. "You know, it's not so bad. Just needs a little dusting, that's all." I turned just in time to see Matt plop down on the couch and take of his jacket. He loosened his tie, like I had done previously, and leaned his head against the back of the couch. I sat down beside him and crossed my legs. Looking down the hallway, I remembered all the rooms that were down there. First door on the left was actually an arch, leading into the dining room. We had so much fun in there, and possibly an 'accidental' food fight between Matt and myself broke out occasionally. L was never happy with it, but he would never get too terribly mad with us. You could always see a hint of amusement behind his dark eyes. Behind us was the kitchen, where Matt and I had tried to make a cake for L's birthday one year. I smiled at the memory of the lumpy, half-baked thing we had proudly shoved in his face. Just down the hallway to the right was one of L's offices (he had three) where sometimes he would let us look through cases that he had done. Although L was far too busy to home school us, I remember times when he would read us details of a solved case, list the suspects, and let us figure out who the perpetrator of the crime was. Usually we were right, but it was because he gave us hints.

"Hey, Mihael." I snapped my head up to see Matt standing up from the couch. "Quit your fuckin' day dreaming, let's go see his bedroom." He had a slight mischievous smile across his face, but I knew Matt meant no disrespect. "I mean, come on. There can't be anything terrible in there, right?" I bit the inside of my cheek, debating it with myself. L would have encouraged us to be curious, but he would definitely not approve of us going in his bedroom. But after all, he couldn't tell us no.

I stood up slowly, undoing my tie the rest of the way and throwing it on the couch. "All right, what the Hell. Let's just look, though. Not snoop." Matt shrugged and headed down the hallway, climbing the stairs that led to the second floor at the end. On my way upstairs, I mumbled a silent apology to L, as if he could still hear me. As if he could come home any second.

"Come on, man!" I heard Matt shout, and I hurried up the rest of the stairs. As he came into my sight, I greeted him with a sharp punch to the arm. "Ow!" He said, stepping back. "I was just waiting for your lazy ass to get up here, that's all." I rolled my eyes and looked around. L's second office was up here as well, and then the third and final one was on the third floor. We figured out early on that the third floor was where he kept all the current cases he was working on, or cases that he didn't want us to find. After all, we were still children, and L dealt with nasty people. His bedroom was across from mine, somewhat diagonal, though. Matt's bedroom had always been right next to mine; that was even the way it was at the orphanage. I had wondered on numerous occasions why he didn't want us going into his bedroom (not even if we asked politely), but I supposed it was just his space, and that he figured we should respect his personal space. Matt was already ahead of me, poised with his hand over the doorknob.

"What if it's locked?" I said suddenly, walking to catch up with him. "I have no idea if he locked it or not, but it might be." Matt looked down at the knob.

"I dunno. But hey, we can't say we didn't try, right?" With that, he jiggled the handle. Surprising both of us, the door swung open. Matt held out his hands like he had accomplished something masterful, and I shoved him as I stepped through the doorway.

L's bedroom was nothing spectacular. It was neat, like the rest of the house, but completely bare. Nothing on the walls, not even pictures. Whereas both our bedrooms had changed as we grew, putting up posters, or pictures of girlfriends, reminders of upcoming tests in school or events... but the walls were free of anything remotely close to what I've mentioned. I heard Matt give a quiet "whoa", as he stepped through as well. In the center of the room, pressed up against the wall, was L's bed. Immaculate, as always. The white sheets were crisp as if they had been bought a few days ago. It was made up perfectly, and my heart sank because I knew he would never sleep in it again.

"Well, there's nothing here, looks like." I said as I stepped around the bed to look at the barren walls. It was then that I noticed a closet in front of me, a rather large one at that. Matt looked to me as if to say, 'oh really?' and I shook my head. "Don't open it Matt, he's got personal things in there." He ignored my warning, walking over to jerk the door open. I whirled around, growing angry. Did he have to blatantly ignore everything I said? "Goddammit, Matt! What did I just say?" I moved to stand beside him, hearing no answer. Matt was staring up at the closet, a slightly puzzled look on his face. When I saw what was inside, the look crossed my face as well.

Only a few of the things in L's closet were clothes. The rest were boxes upon boxes, stacked upon one another. There were papers inside, and in some of them there were photographs. I stepped forward unintentionally and lifted one up. It was slightly heavy, but I set it down on the ground and bent over to look through it. '_What the Hell am I doing? This is L's personal things, I shouldn't be going through them!' _I thought to myself angrily, but I continued. Matt followed suit, picking up a box packed with photographs and placing it on the ground next to mine. "Matt," I said, pulling out a sheet of paper from the box in front of me. "This is all of our old school work." He looked toward me and scrunched up his nose, confused. I shoved the paper in his face, as if he didn't believe me.

"No shit, man? This is a math paper you did in, like, the fifth grade!" He laughed, handing it back to me. We both sat down in front of our respective boxes and began to look through them. It seemed the worries of invading our guardian's personal space had been forgotten momentarily. "Hey, look at this. It has a bunch of pictures of us, come on." I scooted over on the floor to sit next to him, looking at a few photographs he held in his hand. Most of them were from when we were younger, but it seemed L had arranged them in chronological order. Figured.

There's no telling how long we sat there and went through his things. Now that I think about it, L probably wouldn't have minded. He wanted to make sure that we respected him enough not to go looking through his things, and now that he was gone, he most likely didn't care. I know it sounds silly, but it was how I thought then. Every picture we looked at seemed to recreate a memory that had been lost, and we had great fun recounting them. There were some when he had taken us to the park when we were younger, and L never looked too happy in those shots. As I remember, he hated people. Hated crowds, and to be around anyone that might look at him a little funny. But he always seemed to be the happiest when he was with us.

Among the pictures of us when we were younger, we could look through them and see us grow up through a camera lens. There was a picture of a miserable haircut I received when I was ten, that took a couple of years to regrow. I hated having my hair short. My expression in the photograph was ready to kill anyone that came across it. Matt and I both laughed at that one. After finishing all the pictures in that box, we went to the closet, eager to find another one. Luckily, there was one more box packed full of photographs. Miraculously, none of the pictures were bent or crumpled. L had stacked them methodically; he never wanted anything to happen to the precious memories of us.

Reaching into the box, I pulled out a particularly interesting photograph. To me, it looked like two young L's. The one on the right looked more like the L we knew, except around fifteen or sixteen. L hadn't changed much since he was our age. Same unruly black hair, deep concentrating eyes, and pale skin. Just as skinny as ever, too. The one on the left looked substantially like L, only different in some way. His eyes were just as wide, but something was off. Almost like there was something wrong, hiding behind a slightly crazed expression. His head was tilted to the side, an unnerving smile (that somehow still looked like a frown) across his pale lips. His hair was longer, his hands stuffed deep in the pocket of his ripped up jeans. I pointed it out to Matt. "Look at this, man. This is weird." He leaned over to look at the picture, and raised his eyebrows.

"That's fuckin' creepy." He mumbled, snatching it from my hand and staring at it intently. "What is this, did he have a clone or someth—" We both turned to look at each other at the same time, and laughed. I put the picture back in the box. "Oh, I get it now. I had no idea they looked _that _much alike." I remembered a time we had pulled a stack of bills from the mail, and they were addressed from the Psychiatric Institution of Winchester. We were both old enough to know what Psychiatric meant, and after tearing open the envelopes in secret, we learned that they were concerning a Mr. Rue Lawliet. He had the same last name as L, we must have been very confused. Of course, we came to him with this problem.

Needless to say, L wasn't happy that we went through the bills. He gave us a brief lecture, before we mentioned the name "Rue Lawliet". He had stopped dead in his tracks and his whole demeanor had changed, from angry to very, very tense. In no uncertain terms, L explained to us vaguely that Rue Lawliet was his twin, and they were no longer in contact. We kept pressing, wanting to know why the papers said "Psychiatric Institution of Winchester". After more prying, he told us that Rue had been admitted there some time ago.

Matt and I had realized suddenly that the other man in the picture must have been Rue Lawliet. "What are we going to do about him?" I asked all of a sudden, turning toward Matt.

"Who?" He asked idly, thumbing through a few more pictures.

"Rue Lawliet, you know. L's twin." He looked up and shrugged. "Well, it's obvious that L took care of all his medical expenses and everything, and now that he's... dead, what's going to happen to that poor guy in the hospital?" Matt stood up and placed the photographs back in the box.

"I don't know, but I'm sure it'll be covered in the will. We don't have to worry about it, most likely. L wouldn't force him on us, you know that." I nodded and stood up as well, supposing we were getting ready to leave. Placing everything back exactly where we had found it (almost as if to make sure L wouldn't notice), we both took one last look at his bedroom before closing the door behind us. Standing there in silence for a moment, I leaned against the door, as if doing so would make me feel L's presence again. And in a way, it almost did. "Let's get outta here," Matt said suddenly, grabbing my arm.

I nodded and followed him down the stairs, not bothering to give L's room another glance. "We'll come back and get those photographs tomorrow, all right?" Matt looked back at my words, puzzled. "I don't know who he left them to, but I want to have them. That sound okay?" We reached the bottom of the stairs, and I walked toward the couch to grab my tie. Picking up Matt's jacket, I threw it to him and watched him catch it. "We can look through the other stuff, just to see if there's anything else we want. I mean, we're his kids. We should have the right to most of it, shouldn't we?"

"Well, L didn't have a lot of friends. At least, none that I know. And his parents are dead, that's what he told us. His brother's locked up in an asylum, so I'm assuming a lot of the stuff goes to us, yeah." I chuckled as we headed out the door.

XxXxXxX

I sat alone in my hotel room, staring idly at the ceiling, thinking about L. About his life, and how we knew nothing about it, about his life with us, and the few precious months leading up to his death. He had done such a good job fighting it off, such a good job making us think he was just sick for the first week. And it was true, we hadn't known anything was wrong with him until the day he checked himself into the hospital. Our teacher had arranged for one of the off-duty nurses to drive us there, so we could see him.

Shaking my head so that my blond hair fell in front of my face, I concealed the tears that started to well up in my eyes. "He shouldn't be gone," I whispered to no one in particular. Silence was my answer. "He was too fucking young, he shouldn't be gone. He should be here with us." My heart tightened inside of my chest and I sat up, looking around the cheap hotel that we had decided to stay the night at. Matt was in the room next to me, no doubt thinking over the same things I was.

Standing from the bed, I made my slow way toward the bathroom. I needed a drink of water. Once inside, I caught a good glimpse of myself in the mirror, and stopped to stare. My blue eyes were murky and red around the edges, and my long, light hair was strewn in disarray. It made me think of him, how he would never brush his hair no matter what anyone said. I thought it was cool, when I was younger. I suppose I saw L as some sort of rebel, and that explains for my behavior later on. But I'll get into that later. Placing a finger to one of the many small, circular burn scars on my face, I closed my eyes. "Why the Hell did you have to leave?" I asked out loud, finally opening my eyes and looking up. I don't know what I expected to see on the ceiling, but maybe I was trying to look further up.

"Why did you take him!" I shouted suddenly, slamming my fists down onto the counter. I felt the impact shoot up to my arms, but I didn't bother caring. "We needed him, you inconsiderate asshole! You're fake! I don't know why I ever believed in you!" With each accusation I hurled, my voice grew louder, more frenzied as I banged my hands down again and again. The tears slipped down my cheeks, so many I wasn't even sure if I was crying anymore. Leaning over the counter, I proceeded to both sob and catch my breath at the same time. After a few minutes of watching my tears dropping hurriedly into the sink, I pushed myself up and purposefully ignored my expression. "I don't need this fucking thing!" I shouted, grabbing the cross I always wore around my neck. "I don't need this, and I don't need _you!_" With all my strength, I turned and hurled the cross out of the room. It hit the wall to the left of the bed with an annoying clatter.

Looking back on it all now, it seems rather silly. Standing there in that crappy hotel bathroom, screaming to God about taking L away from us. But I was truly infuriated, and my faith was most certainly rattled. I had no idea why L had to go, and I still don't today. The only answer I can come up with was that maybe it was his time. But what is 'your time', really? No one ever dies, leaving everyone they knew in peace. There's always turmoil surrounding death, it's just a rule of thumb.

Enough about what we did after his death, though. Let's go back to the beginning, the day Matt and I first met the man we came to know as L Lawliet.

Author's Note: Hello there. Hopefully you've finished the first chapter, or just skipped to the end to read my oh-so-insightful musings. (Yeah, I kinda doubt it.) Anyway, I'd like some reviews on this baby, because I did work hard on it. Thanks for reading, and make sure to review review review! 8D


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